


Oblivion

by whereismygarden



Series: Stargate Universe Rarepairs [1]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4058119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whereismygarden/pseuds/whereismygarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had been doing this for almost two decades.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> After "Intervention" and sort of during "Aftermath."

                Colonel Telford was in his newly assigned quarters: he’d reported back to Homeworld Command earlier in the day. Mackie was outside his door, still technically guarding him, in case of some relapse. Some true hidden treachery.

                “Dismissed, Airman,” Young said, and hit the door control to David’s room as Mackie left. He had been lying on the bed, wide awake, and was already jumping to his feet at the sound of the door. He looked a little haggard, his newly acquired clothes not fitting perfectly and his t-shirt slightly distorted from the bandages underneath.

                “Everett,” he said, stilling and moving into a rest stance. Young looked him over: he looked absolutely wired under the exhaustion, the bloody mark in his right eye almost camouflaged by the burst capillaries and dark circles. Still, he was standing upright and not turning grey. Good. “Did Homeworld Command authorize you to let me out?”

                As if Young was going to rely on Homeworld Command for that. He didn’t have the energy to get angry about the question, though, because he barely had energy at all. Just something else that was boiling over.

                “I didn’t come about your position on Destiny.” Young stepped forward, pushed rigid fingers against his chest and shoving him backwards a little. “Turn around.” David tilted his head just a little, eyes cautious, hopeful.

                “Are we still--?” Young didn’t crack a smile.

                “I said turn around.” David did, taking in a shuddering breath, and let Young push him forwards, till his hands were against the wall. Young plastered himself against his back, grabbing him by the base of the neck. He was in socks, which made the difference in their heights a little easier. It had been a while.

                They had been doing this for almost two decades. It didn’t count as sex or as infidelity or as homosexuality or as anything else that could hurt either of them. David just did better, lost his jitters and rage a little, was knife-sharp and strong, at his _best_ , instead of needle-like and shatter-ready, when he had this. Young certainly wasn’t the only one who did it for him: he’d had girlfriends, in the past. When they had been stationed far apart, there had been other men, no doubt.

                “I do better if, every other month or so, someone just fucks the hell out of me,” he’d said, apropos of nothing, a few months after they met. Young had obliged. And he was right.

                “How long?” Young asked, reaching a hand around and undoing David’s belt. He shivered, and tossed his head.

                “At least a year,” he said.

                “No one in the Alliance--?” Young asked, sliding his hand down into the front of David’s pants, avoiding pressing on his bandage. He shook his head.

                “Fuck no.” He hissed. “Jesus, Everett,” he ground out, as Young’s hand stroked over his cock, lightly. Young shoved against his neck and shoulders.

                “Be fucking patient,” he growled, and David tensed and then relaxed, at least a little. Young tested his thumb against the muscles of his shoulders: rock hard. This was going to take forever. It was amazing how _he_ responded, though: he was getting hard, at remembering what this particular situation was. That wouldn’t be a problem. It never had been: maybe he should wonder why it was so easy to get it up to fuck his best friend, but David wasn’t repulsive. Sex was sex, he’d justified it to himself when he was young and gave a shit about being kind of gay, and he wasn’t the one _taking_ it. Since then, he’d stopped caring, and the sex wasn’t the point of it anyway.

                He unzipped David’s pants, pulled them down with his underwear to his knees, and shoved him down onto his hands and knees, kneeling behind him. He pulled the package of lube out of his pocket—he couldn’t believe someone had taken the time to make it, but it was approved, though not in a public way, by TJ, and it was going to come in handy here. He got his fingers good and slick, put one arm on the small of David’s back, holding him still, and worked one inside him. God, he was tight, trembling and gritting his teeth, and Young moved his finger in and out, slowly, adding more lube.

                When he managed to get a second one in, he jerked and cried out.

                “God, Everett, just do it,” he gasped, pushing his hips back. Young pushed down on his back, not very gentle, and he winced and went still.

                “I’ll do it when I think you’re ready,” he said, slowly, darkly, and moved his fingers apart a little, stretching. David cried out again, hands flexing and clenching on the decking. “Shh,” he said. “I’m being gentle.”

                “I know,” he said, voice ragged. “It’s not that, it’s everything—“

                “I know,” Young said, and stroked the small of his back. He understood the need to yell.

                It took a while before he thought David was ready, and he poured more lube into his hand, took his own cock out of his pants, and covered it. His arousal was intense but muted, directed towards David, undemanding. He lined himself up and paused. He wasn’t sure how David was going to react; it had been a year, and he was already wound tight and trembling, thighs shaking under Young’s hands.

                Well. He would stick to what they usually did, and nudged the head of his cock against David’s opening. David let out a whimper that sent heat down his cock like a live wire.

                “Ask me,” he said, and David let out a shaky moan. “It’s good for you.” He still paused for a few long moments, fingers twisting against the floor and back twitching.

                “Fuck me,” he said, finally, low and rough. “Please, fuck me.”

                Young grabbed onto the bones of his hips and slid inside, driving deep. David lowered his head onto his forearms, bending his back, but Young just leaned forward, put his hands on either side of his torso, and kept fucking him. He keened into the skin of his arms and Young could hear his shoulder joints crack occasionally with their movement.

                He felt amazing, the slicked heat of David surrounding him, nothing else to think about, and he heard himself groaning as well as he thrust, chasing his orgasm. All he could feel was the hot flesh around him, the whole of him shrinking down into a few nerves, something that needed and didn’t think. David moaned underneath him, and Young felt him come, feeling his muscles tighten around his cock. He grabbed onto his shoulders, shoving him down and pulling him towards him as he thrust faster. It was only a few minutes later when he came, panting into David’s neck, gripping his upper arms.

                He pulled out slowly, trying not to get the mess of semen and lube onto his uniform or David’s, and grabbed the rag he used to dry his hands from the sink to wipe it all up. David was gasping, and he handed him the rag to wipe up his legs and the floor, which had got the worst of his orgasm.

                “Everett,” he said, and his voice was cracked and strained. Young felt strange, as if a brief break in the cloud of unending grief over him was pouring down light that would soon be gone. He did up his pants, trying to collect himself. David was getting back to his feet, pulling up his pants, but when he turned around, Young could see tears streaked down his face.

                “Did I hurt you?” He had been pretty much right on top of him, and he was still newly wounded. David pointed to his abdomen with a raised eyebrow, then shook his head.

                “No, that was,” he paused, worked his jaw. “I needed that.” Young sat down on the bed, regarding him as he straightened himself but declined to wipe his teary face.

                “I’ve always liked doing this for you,” he said. “But I think I see why it helps you, now.”

                “It’s not just release,” he agreed, sitting next to him. “It’s oblivion.”

                “There’s an appeal,” Young acknowledged, and David looked over at him, face softening for just a moment.

                “Whenever you need it,” he said. “And whenever you need someone to pull you back from the nothing, that too.”

                Young nodded, and stood up, ran his hands through his hair. Then, impulsively, he leaned down and forward, and kissed him. For a second afterwards, he stood still in terror, because this had never been any part of it. A little biting, a lot of begging, but not kissing. Not purposeless intimacy.

                David just touched his upper lip with his tongue and looked evenly back at him, then smiled slightly, nodded. Well. Good.

                He left, but didn’t call anyone else to come stand guard outside David’s door. He was going to be passed out in about three minutes, and even if he wasn’t, Young could trust him.


End file.
